


Penumbra

by Hyoushin



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Gen, I Don't Even Know, I love this tag thingy, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, It's not really angst, Just something weird, Pre-Canon, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 05:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2377013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyoushin/pseuds/Hyoushin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today, his eyes are gray, his hair is black.<br/>And Hide is beside him.</p><p>His life is normal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penumbra

**I.** **Ghost Image**

_Five-hundred—_

 

He started from his light sleep with a gasp.

Ken moved his head to his right, following the vibrant yellow sunbeam entering through the small window of his apartment. He laid on his bed, breathless, heart racing, wildly and painfully. The uncomfortable remains of perspiration lingering on his skin, dampening his nightclothes, made him squirm upon the thin mattress. He coughed a few times. His sore throat felt parched. His head hurt.

He winced when his feet touched the cold floor. He stood up with difficulty, stumbling his way to the bathroom, his legs were heavy and hard to handle, as if they were borrowed. Then, there was an unexplainable dim awareness of a muted consternation when he saw his reflection in the mirror.

His widened eyes were this clear gentle gray, and his hair was plain, short and black.

It was an expected sight. This ordinary image was what he saw every day.

Ken proceeded to take his clothes off; trembling fingertips traced a timid path down the soft slight curves of his slender body, halting over his smooth, flawless stomach.

Everything was as it should be.

 

There was nothing amiss.

**II.** **Presentiment**

When Ken arrived at Kamii U, Hide gave him an imminent bone-crushing hug when he had spotted him. “Are you finally feeling better?” he said, smiling. The overwhelming pressure around his upper body transmitted sincere affection and concern. “That cold hit you hard!”

“I—I’m fine, Hide, really, I can’t breathe!”

“Sorry! I sent you several texts but you weren’t replying!” Hide released him and crossed his arms. “You missed a week of school! Do you know what that means?”

The keen sensation of something crawling over his left calf rose a sudden violent shiver; with an astounding instinctual urgency, he grasped and lifted the hem of his trousers to his knee, revealing small pairs of legs dragging themselves upwards, patiently, innocently, upon his skin.

If he moved, would this insect poison him?

Kaneki Ken was paralyzed.

 

_Hiding this unknown asphyxiating dread._

  *          **Evanescent**



Chocolate, cinnamon, butter, strawberries, flour, dirty trays, pervading smoke and desperate boys. His kitchen was a mess. Hide had come to his apartment with a cooking book, a big plastic bag and a silly grin.

Hide’s sonorous laugh startled him. He had bent his body and clutched his stomach as he kept laughing with an infectious joyfulness. Ken smiled at the sight. “I don’t know what’s so funny about this, we totally failed Hide; I’ll help you look for something for your niece’s birthday, just please let’s not try this again.”

“You look like an old man Kaneki!” Hide exclaimed, the amusement wouldn’t be leaving his eyes anytime soon.

Ken’s curiosity was piqued and took a clean spoon out of a drawer. His appearance was rather unclear, but somehow, there was flour dyeing his hair in a shocking white. The spoon fell to the sink as he turned and walked out of the kitchen.

 

In the shower, water fell, and his hair was black once again.

 

 

  *          **Wrong**



Ken had asked Hide to accompany him to the mall, his favorite bookstore had been selling a new limited edition of Takatsuki’s debut work, Dear Kafka. As Ken had gazed at his purchase with barely restrained glee, Hide had pulled him into a photo booth without warning.

“Hey, Kaneki! You forgot to take your copy!” Hide’s hand waved a string of photos before him. “Oh, look! There’s a faulty one, how did that happen?”

Ken observed the identical series of photos, Hide and him smiling while he held the paper bag containing the book in his arms. He centered his attention on the last photo, it showed a dark faint smudge on his face. Ken stared at it for a minute, and then he tossed his head and averted his eyes. He blinked several times and looked at that picture again. There was only a smudge. Nothing else.

“Is there something wrong?” Hide asked.

“No, it’s just—” Ken shook his head, thinking that what he had seen must had been a trick of the light. “It’s nothing, never mind.”

 

The previous print was discarded.

Before long, in his hands, Ken had a new unblemished one.

 

He soon forgot that he had seen a smudge partly covering his face, and a foreign ruby red glint amid the usual grey of his left eye.

 

**III.** **Pound of Flesh**

(—choices, everything revolved around choices. Aside from those I had blindly made, I did not own anything. Nothing was mine. Not even my own flesh.

The price of the rent of this transitory existence had been too high. But it had to be paid. Nothing was free. I understood. As I reached the edge and fell within a torturous destiny, I had finally understood.

This body was comfortably numb. So much so I did not care if I ever saw the sun once more.

For once, there were no thoughts. There were no feelings.

Deep darkness and endless silence encompassing me. It was soothing.

 

I sighed and slept soundly.

_‘Oh, but tell me,’_

_‘Where had the true nightmare laid?’_ )

 

 

Takatsuki Sen’s short stories were so good! This one was truly exceptional. Rumor had it this story had been the prototype of her most recent book. A resounding thud was heard, Ken had closed the book with a satisfied smile—the afterglow of reading an excellent story till its conclusion.

As a passionate reader, and as a devoted fan of Takatsuki’s works, he was content—even if there was a small part of him that found eerie, for some strange reason, how this story in particular had felt so incredibly _real_.

Takatsuki was such a talented writer.

Ken grabbed another book on his nightstand. He had been waiting for this moment. He had bought it yesterday. A hand caressed the hard cover, and then, he opened the book with childish excitement and effervescent expectation.

That night, Kaneki Ken began to read, Takatsuki Sen’s _The Black Goat’s Egg_.

As always, the pages ensnared him, the words enveloped his mind, and so he read and read and read immersing himself in an artful fictional world that to him felt so genuine—as if he was the protagonist.

 

  *          **Equivocation**



 

_His life was normal._

 

He knew it was enough reading for tonight when his eyelids drooped and his body was suffused with drowsiness. Before he could turn off the lamp, his cellphone vibrated, signaling an incoming text message:

‘Kaneki, tomorrow let’s go to Anteiku,’

There were homework assignments waiting to be completed. He was tempted to say no.

‘I wanna see the pretty girl that caught your eye!’

‘OK,’he typed, and pressed a button. Ken’s reply was sent.

 

It would only take a moment.

 

_Until it suddenly wasn’t._

 

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno what this is. I just wanted to write a lil something for tg.


End file.
